


no better version of me

by Midnightminx90



Series: Canon-Compliant BeauYasha [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26203105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnightminx90/pseuds/Midnightminx90
Summary: For a moment, Beau swears she hears thunder and sees a strike of lightning illuminate the room, and then Yasha’s wings are out, wrapping around them, enveloping them in soft white light.“I’ll always catch you. You’re safe now.”
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Series: Canon-Compliant BeauYasha [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944490
Comments: 11
Kudos: 228





	no better version of me

Beau observes Yasha for a moment before stepping into her room to join her. The tall woman’s back is to her, gaze upon the mural and so Beau can look at her back. 

She tilts her head to the side, trying to see if there’s any sign of wings passing through cloth but there’s nothing.   
  
“You can come in you know,” Yasha says, soft as ever and low enough that Beau barely picks up on the words.

“I have,” Beau says, feeling like she’s speaking about two different things all at once.   
  
“It’s good to be back,” Yasha says, still looking at the flowers as Beau walks up next to her.    
  
“Yeah,” Beau replies, and she feels awkward. “Found the dick yet?”   
  
Yasha turns to look at her, confused for a moment until she remembers Jester’s hidden ‘gift.’   
  
“Not yet.” There’s a small smile tugging at her lips. “But it’s… It’s not my thing, you know?”   
  
She is used to Yasha sounding awkward, but there’s something different about it now, about the way her words halt for a moment before coming out, like she doesn’t quite know what to say or how to say it.   
  
“Not mine either,” Beau says, but her eyes still scan the mural in case she can glimpse it. 

  
They stand in silence for a long time, and there are no sounds from their friends as they have all gone to sleep. The shadows from the candles Yasha’s lit dance across the walls, making the mural seem alive almost, a true testimony to Jester’s skills. 

“I want you,” Beau says suddenly, and the words are easy and hard to say all at once because it’s true, a confession, and it brings the chance of hurt and rejection.   
  
Yasha looks at her, face unreadable, and Beau looks away, waiting for the words she fears.   
  
She suspects Yasha’s been flirting back, fearing it’s been her imagination, but flirting does not equal wanting to spend the night with someone.    
This is why she doesn’t do this, doesn’t do commitment. All her life, Beau’s been used to people not wanting her around; first her family, then the Cobalt Soul, and for the life of her she’s still not used to any of the Nein wanting her as part of them.   
  
It was why she had been so close to accepting the hag’s offer - one day, her friends would tire of her and it would have been far better to remove herself from the hurt and loss by her own volition, rather than be left in the dust again.   
  
Yasha looks at her and Beau turns to walk away.   
  
“I want you too,” Yasha says, voice soft and wanting.   
  
It takes a long moment for the words to register with Beau, and by the time she does, Yasha is right in front of her, looming, and Beau does the only thing she can think of.   
  
She reaches up, raising herself up on her toes as she does, grabbing a hold of Yasha’s face and finally, finally their lips meet and Beau thinks she might just combust then and there. She’s wanted, wondered about this for so long and it feels like a dream until Yasha’s tongue licks her lips and Beau opens her mouth to deepen the kiss.   
  
Yasha’s arms surround her, wraps her up in a warm and welcoming embrace that becomes the only thing keeping Beau upright.    
  
There’s heat filling her, radiating, vibrating in the air between them and Beau shudders.   
  
Some risks are worth the burn.   
  
Warmth not unlike fire trail their wandering hands as clothes are removed and hands stroke exposed skin.    
  
Yasha picks Beau up and stumbles backwards, falling clumsily into a chair by the window, Beau on her lap, but neither pays it any mind. They both know what they want, hungry kisses trailing over skin, hands leaving gooseflesh in their wake.    
  
Getting undressed is messy and complicated, but they aid the other as best they can until Beau stands in front of Yasha.   
  
She looks at Yasha now that she’s allowed. In their trips to bathhouses, Beau’s not allowed herself to look, fearing that such looks would be noticed and frowned upon, even with all their friends exposed in the same matter.   
  
Yasha is pale and muscular, but her muscles are not as defined as Beau’s own, or Jester’s. No, she’s built in a more robust way, and for some reason Beau feels comforted by it. She knows how perfect those arms are when it comes to holding her.   
  
Beau’s never felt as exposed as she does now, one of Yasha’s hands on her hip, stroking over one of her innumerable scars.   
  
They have scars, both of them, visible and not. The scars are made of swords and claws and words and broken bones and promises and hurt and loss.    
They’re all testaments to survival, to fighting and protecting.   
They will not heal, not fully, not ever, but Beau thinks that maybe one day, they will get better, hurt less, if they work on their healing together.   
  
She looks at Yasha, large and strong and pale.   
  
Yasha’s scars are less visible than Beau’s own, which stands out in stark pale contrast to her darker skin, but she knows they’re there nonetheless. Maybe one day she will gather the courage to ask Yasha about all of them. Maybe one day she will map them out and commit them to memory.    
  
If Yasha will let her, that is.    
Beau knows she is willing to let Yasha learn about each and every one of hers, visible and not.    
  
She sinks to the floor in front of the chair, placing her hands on Yasha’s thighs, feeling the muscles twitch in response.   
  
“Let me take care of you,” Beau says, and this time her own voice is soft as she’s using her hands to spread Yasha’s legs wider.   
  
In response, Yasha allows her legs to be moved and she moves to sit closer to the edge, knowing what Beau is about to do and silently allowing her that.    
  
Beau kisses her way from Yasha’s knee, closer and closer, knowing she’s teasing at this point but wanting to savour it all for as long as she can. There are scars here too, as well as stretch marks shaped like lightning and Beau thinks Yasha chose her God well.   
  
“Wait,” Yasha says, just as Beau is about to touch her. “Don’t touch yourself, okay? Let me take care of you too.”   
  
“You don’t have to,” Beau replies, even as heat pools in her stomach at the idea of Yasha’s hands and mouth on her. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to…”   
  
“But I want to,” Yasha interrupts, eyes locked with Beau’s. “This isn’t a one-way thing.”   
  
“Okay,” Beau says, cutting off any other words from Yasha as she finally reaches her goal.   
  
Yasha is warm and wet and Beau buries her face in it, nuzzling her clit before licking up in a broad stroke with her tongue. Beneath her hands, she feels Yasha quiver again, feels her legs twitch as though to close around her head but they stay still.   
  
The hair on Yasha’s cunt is jet black and thankfully trimmed.   
  
“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Beau says.   
  
She begins licking in earnest, switching between slow and fast strokes, broad and narrow, setting a pace and pattern. Yasha moans above her, and her hands settle in Beau’s hair, holding her head gently in place, making it clear she appreciates her ministrations.   
  
Beau begins sucking on Yasha’s clit, and it draws a litany of swears from the other woman.   
  
She wishes she could touch herself, but instead she digs one hand into Yasha’s thigh and uses the other to pump two fingers in and out of her, timing it with the strokes of her tongue.    
  
Beau’s always loved sex, and there’s something to rewarding about going down on other women, having them rut against her face when she does something they like, or having their legs clench around her face as she gets them over the edge.    
It makes her feel wanted and needed.   
  
Doing it to Yasha is different.   
  
Beau’s admired her since the say they met, wondered about her every time she’s left to do her own thing, and the longer they’ve spent together, the more Beau’s felt herself drawn to Yasha in ways she’s never felt before.   
  
She admires Yasha’s strength and resolve, likes how at odds her voice is with her appearance, that she loves flowers and can be the most gentle person when carrying her, or someone fearless in battle.    
  
Making Yasha slowly come undone is the best reward she’s ever received   
  
Beau adds a third finger and Yasha’s hands tighten in her hair, pulling her mouth closer.    
Taking the clue, Beau licks into Yasha, tongue moving inside her alongside her fingers, until she finds the right angle, stroking relentlessly.   
  
“Beau, I’m gonna…” Yasha’s hands try to pull her away, but Beau is not having it.   
  
Instead, she doubles her efforts, enjoying the way Yasha’s walls are clenching around her fingers as she carefully suckles at her clit again. She fits a fourth finger, barely thrusting them in at first in order to tease, then as deep as they can go.   
  
Yasha comes then, legs quivering in their effort not to clench around Beau, who continues to lick Yasha’s cunt through her orgasm, lapping up her wetness until Yasha pulls her away from being too sensitive.    
  
“That was…” Yasha starts, fumbling for her words again. “Thank you. I...”   
  
“Awh, come on, don’t thank me, that just makes this sound wrong!” Beau exclaims as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “I didn’t do this to like, do you a favour or anything.”   
  
“I’m sorry,” Yasha says, and that’s even worse.   
  
“Just stop talking,” Beau says, settling down on her lap again, kissing her hard and deep, burying her hands in Yasha’s hair..   
  
Yasha’s hands are on her hips, thumbs massaging the skin just below her hip bones, before moving to cup her ass.    
  
Beau moves slightly, so that she straddles one of Yasha’s muscular legs and she begins rutting down, needing some kind of touch before she goes crazy. She needs Yasha’s fingers inside her and mouth on her, but she doesn’t want to move to make that happen.   
  
“I told you I’d take care of you,” Yasha says, breaking their kiss and Beau laughs because she sounds petulant.   
  
“I’m not touching myself, and you kinda are though,” she teases. “But if you don’t actually get going soon I’ll have to do it myself.”   
  
Yasha looks at Beau, her different eyes boring into her own.   
  
“I’ll watch that. But next time, not now.”   
  
Before Beau can reply, Yasha buries a finger inside her, thumb rubbing her clit as her head lowers to take one of Beau’s nipples in her mouth.    
  
A shudder runs through Beau, and it feels like her entire body is on fire. It causes her hands to fall to Yasha’s shoulders, needing to hold herself upright.   
  
“Fuck!” she shouts, not caring if anyone hears them. “Just like that!”   
  
“Is that all it takes?” Yasha asks and through her haze it takes Beau a moment to understand that Yasha just made a joke.   
  
“Shut up,” Beau retorts, knowing she’s blushing. She doesn’t usually react like this, but Yasha is different. She brings out another part of Beau, another version.    
  
Yasha smiles, and it’s bigger than her usual ones.    
  
“How about this?” Yasha asks, and another of her fingers enters Beau.   
  
“More! Gods, Yasha, please!”   
  
Yasha does, and it’s been long since Beau’s felt this full. For a long time, she’s had to do with her own fingers, but Yasha’s are slightly thicker, enough to make a difference when three of them are buried inside her.    
  
The angle is somewhat awkward, but they make do, Yasha’s mouth leaving marks across Beau’s throat and chest, one hand kneading her ass.   
  
Then Yasha’s fingers curl up inside her and Beau’s head falls back as she moans.   
  
“I’m close,” she whispers, bending to kiss Yasha again, hands moving from Yasha’s shoulders to once again settle in her hair.   
  
Beau’s hips buck, trying to match the movement of Yasha’s fingers buried inside her and she relishes the wet sounds their movement creates, the sound somehow making her even wetter than she already is.   
  
Gods, Yasha is so good at this.   
  
No one has ever made Beau feel this good during sex, and a part of her never wants this to end, to float on this feeling of exstacy and never come down, but she’s climbing still, like when Yasha took her on that flight after they defeated Vokodo, and Beau knows she must come down sooner or later.   
  
“You feel so wonderful,” Beau mumbles incoherently against Yahsa’s neck after pulling back from their kiss to breathe. “Feels so good, like when you took me flying. Don’t wanna come down.”   
  
“It’s okay,” Yasha whispers back, “it’s okay, baby, you can let go, I got you.”   
  
For a moment, Beau swears she hears thunder and sees a strike of lightning illuminate the room, and then Yasha’s wings are out, wrapping around them, enveloping them in soft white light.   
  
“I’ll always catch you. You’re safe now.”   
  
Wrapped in Yasha’s wings, one hand at the nape of her neck and the other bringing her closer and closer to completion, Beau finally reaches the top and she leaps over the edge, Yasha’s words echoing in her mind.   
  
Beau’s eyes are closed and she thinks of when their flight ended, thinks of before that, when Yasha brought out her wings to catch her.   
  
When she opens them again, Yasha is looking at her, and the wings are still around them, like a cocoon and through the haze in her mind, Beau thinks that it’s a fitting term, because it brings about change and growth into something new and wonderful, something that can soar.   
  
And maybe, just maybe, their love can too.


End file.
